Mischief Managed
by Andrea Elizabeth
Summary: This is it folks! The Official History of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes! There's adventure, true love, danger, defeat and, most importantly, a happy ending! ... George, we don't know if there's a happy ending yet! ... They don't have to know that.
1. The Hunt

Job hunting is a somewhat depressing thing. It brings laughter, humiliation, and desperation to a soul. In the space of five minutes, Mira had become an expert on those emotions. The jobs in America for wizards and witches were few, especially for people under the age of thirty. The choices were young entrepreneur or waitress in a bar. Not that Mira would have minded being a waitress; it was just that there were no bars that suited her. She had a few, ahem, standards that had to be met. She refused to work in a place that required her to give her supervisor favors, she refused to strip, and she wanted her co-workers mostly sober. Some of her friends said that such standards took the fun out of it.

So, Mira had pooled all of her money and bought herself a Portkey to England. Her parents told her that she would have no more luck in England, but Mira was excited by the whole England part of it. Their Ministry was much more organized, and their country was not suffering through a depression. And it was England, the source of all magic. If nothing else, Mira would work in a Muggle bar just to be there.

Getting the Portkey had been interesting. She had borrowed money, filched it, and worked odd jobs. She spent time cleaning a sketchy potions lab, walked a few nasty wizarding dogs, and babysat a wildly magical two-year-old for three weeks. The torture of all of those activities netted her at one hundred fifty-three Galleons. One forty-one Galleon Portkey later, Mira found herself, rather disheveled, in Diagon Alley with an army surplus backpack hanging from an arm that felt uncomfortably like linguini.

She trekked down the street and found herself in front of a pub with a rickety sign proclaiming the Leaky Cauldron. Her tired legs brought her to the door, which opened of its own accord_. Lovely,_ she thought wickedly. The place was nearly empty. She wasn't sure if the people there were employees on break or patrons left over from the night before. Mira made her way to the front desk, or what she assumed was the front desk. It was large, and at one point in its life, it might have been gleaming oak. Now it was a beat up, ruddy, chipped, molding hunk of wood sitting at the front of one of the oddest bars Mira had ever been in.

"Hey, I need a room for a week," Mira said with a yawn. The man behind the desk looked at her as if she were batty.

"Yew fro'm'erica?" he asked, leaning out of a hole created by the desk's shadow, pushing his face out into the light. At first Mira thought he'd been splattered by a horrid potion in his youth. A few seconds later, there was a flicker, and he was a normal looking boy. Mira would later find out that the boy was actually almost thirty years old.

"Yea, sure…" Mira wasn't sure if she should have answered that question.

"Yew from Minesooata?" the boy asked with a grin. Mira glared. She had grown up in Minnesota but had attended school in Salem. No one usually noticed her accent anymore. The last few weeks with her parents must have rubbed off on her.

"Look are you going to give me my room key?" she asked, trying not to bite her bottom lip, it was a terrible habit and made for bad kissing. She considered putting her head down on his desk and sleeping there. At the moment it certainly looked inviting.

"Yaaaaah, suuuuuuuuuure, doll. Fifty fer the week, hundred if ya break anything. Room ten. Up tha' flight of stairs an to the righ'. Have a nice stay at the Leaky," he said as he slipped her a key and leaned back into the dark of the corner. The antique key was a cold weight in her hand, a feeling that reminded her of some of the Muggle horror shows she had seen at home, but at the moment she was far to exhausted to give it much thought.

The room was dank and tiny. She was stripped off her green corduroy pants and overly large sweatshirt. The hot pink bra came off from under her ill-fitting, worn, blue shirt, and she crawled into the bed. As an afterthought, she charmed her wand to work as an alarm, and set it to go off at seven the next morning.

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An angry sound awoke her, and Mira responded in kind. She flung an arm up and out of the cocoon that she slept in and slapped at the nightstand. The fiercely yelling wand clattered to the floor and rolled across the floor with the speed of a mouse. It yelled obscenities at her, calling her a lazy dog that should have awoken with the sun, not hours after the day had begun. The angry voice (that sounded suspiciously like her mother) continued to get louder, and one of her neighbors began banging on the wall opposite her. Mira clambered out of her bed, cursing as her foot caught in the web of her bedding, causing her to hit the floor and bit her tongue, drawing blood.

Eventually, she made it the three feet from her bed to the wand. She grabbed it in a stronghold and muttered, " i Finite Incantatem /i ."

She staggered around the closet-like hotel room, looking for her bag. She found it between the nightstand and the bed. Her shampoo had popped in its plastic bag, which was why her mother had made her put it in the Muggle contraption. For yet another of the many times in her life, she was thankful for the Muggles.

After a shower and a cup of tea, Mira stepped outside, determined that the day wouldn't be so awful. She was wrong. It was completely awful. She started with the smaller stores, thinking a personal owner would be more likely to hire her than a larger store. But the ladies laughed at her in the charms shops, "Honey, no one's hiring now. It's the middle of summer!" They all chortled as they shooed her out. She waited for hours, in one case, to be looked at, snickered at, and sent on her way. It was one of the most trying times of her young life.

But Mira was determined. By the afternoon of the second day, she was beginning to think that she was going to have to make that floo call home. That call in which the child admits that she were stupid, wrong, and needs money to come home. Mira did not want to make that call.

As she was walking back to the Leaky for lunch, on the afternoon of the second day, she was distracted by two red haired men handing out flyers on the street. She snagged a flyer and read, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. "What in the world?" she muttered to herself as she crossed the street.

_Weasleys_' _Wizard Wheezes_

_Bored with Zonko's?_

_Need something new for your archenemy?_

_We'll have it._

_Opening Friday!_

"Okay, why not," Mira shrugged and walked up to the taller of the two, fire topped men. "Hello, I'm Mira," she said, to the broad shouldered boy, for she realized he was quite young, about her age.

He smiled and shook her head. "Fred Weasley, it's nice to meet you, Mira. What can I do for you?" he asked, winking at his brother.

"I'm in need of a job and was wondering if you where hiring," she said bravely.

"So you're the girl who's been bothering all of the other shop owners then?" he asked with another smile. Mira blushed for a second time before shrugging.

"If that's a bad thing then, no, I've never bothered a shop owner in my life!" she cried with false bravado. "And I'm shocked that you could even think such things of me!" For a moment, Fred really thought she was going to cry before a smirk graced her features, quite a flirty smirk actually.

"How old are you?" he asked as he handed out another flyer.

"Twenty- one," she said with a wink.

"You're not a day older than nineteen at most," it was Fred's turn to smirk. "I'll wager you not even eighteen," Fred's smirk disappeared and gave her an appraising look. _She does have a way about her that our customers would like. And that smirk! There's a little devilry in this one._ "Alright, we'll give you a go. You're hired," the sound that escaped Mira's mouth at that moment reminded George of the noises Ginny made when her girlfriends were at the Burrow.

They walked into a building that would adequately be described as cavernous. The walls where a bright fuscia, and the shelves lime green. The register was set up and there were neon blue tables scattered across the room. There was just one thing off…

"Ah … Boss … Where's the product?" she asked, looking around. "I can't sell something that's not here!" She was walked further into the room, rotating slowly in circles.

"Oh, yeah, it's in the back; we just have to set it out. Then, after the first weeks' sales, we'll talk to the providers- you know, for the raw materials. All the charms, and hexes, and stuff we'll do ourselves. The first weekend all three of us'll be down here, working the floor," he seemed very pleased with himself. "Have you ever managed a store? Er … managed anything?" this thought had just occurred to him, he'd have to demote her if she'd never done any leading.

"Ah … I was Quidditch captain. I'm sure I can manage a store. But wait, you said three of us! You need more than three employees! This place is huge! How are we going to make sure the product doesn't waltz out of here in little boys' pockets? How are you going to stop a riot? Explain what everything does? What are we even selling?"

Fred stopped her wild tirade by picking her up so her toes were off the street, and she was eye-to-eye with him. "The rooms not that big missy, it just looks big cause it's mostly empty. Theft isn't a worry, there are anti-theft charms--" he flipped her over his shoulder and headed to the back of the store. For a millisecond, Mira enjoyed her upside-down view of Fred's rear.

"Wait just a minute, boss," she grunted. "My aunt owns a store, and she says anti-theft charms only work half of the time in big crowds."

"Yes, well, Fred and I have modified them…No worries, princess. Riots we'll stop with knockout powder-"

"Knockout powder? Is that an English thing? I've never heard of it."

"It's a Weasley twin thing; don't interrupt. We sell prank assistants, school skipping aids … anything Fred and I find amusing really."

"I thought you were Fred." Mira's brain was spinning as he set her down on a stool.

"I am, shut up. Of course we've thought this out! We've been working on it since we were born. Why would we need schooling to run a joke shop? We graduated from Hogwarts…"

"No, we didn't … Dumbledore just said we did. I'm George. Are you our manager?" Now there were two redheads standing next to each other, the new one, George, was carrying a box.

"Hi, nice to meet you," she muttered. _You both need nametags…_ she thought to herself.

"I trust George has now explained that most of this you will not understand until you've seen, experienced, and helped create these things yourself. These are our uniforms," he said with a grin as he opened the box of black t-shirts.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good?" Mira looked at them in confusion.

"Mischief Managed!" the boys said at the same time.

"Do I want to know?" she asked skeptically.

"It's a quote from the Marauders Map," they said together, as if that explained it.

Mira raised one eyebrow.

"It's a map of Hogwarts--"

"Created by the Marauders--"

"Who were the best pranksters in--"

"Hogwarts history--"

"We owe them everything," the pair finished in unison.

"And what does this map do? No offense, but what makes this map so wonderful?" she asked.

"It shows everyone--"

"Everywhere--"

"At any time--"

"And what they're doing."

"Within Hogwarts?" Mira was beginning to understand.

They both nodded enthusiastically.

"So you've pledged your allegiance to these, Marauders, then?"

Again the boys nodded.

"But what does this have to do with the shirt?"

Both boys blanched.

"That is for us to know--"

"And you to find out."


	2. Mother Dearest

_**A/N:** Thank you to both of my reviewers, goddess of trix and TEPE3A._

**Chapter Two: Mother Dearest**

Inside the storage room that the boys had painted a vivid orange (not that you could tell through most of the boxes), hung what appeared to be an old grandfather clock. In actuality, it was a brand new grandfather clock, but the Weasley boys were disinclined to buy anything that looked new, save clothes. The clock began to chime and Mira looked up in surprise. _What time is it_? She thought wildly. Like most magical things the clock's answer was sarcastic; _past your bedtime_.

"It is not!" Mira protested angrily. Quietly, but angrily. "I'll have you know that _I _am a grown woman and I will not be told to go to bed by a clock!" Her blood was boiling. The afternoon's work, accompanied by lack of food and the late hour, was causing her to be a little irrational.

"Mira, are you fighting with the clock?" Georges amused voice floated through the drafty storeroom.

"Mhmmm…" A giant, jaw-popping yawn was the only reply he received, as she began to haul another cage of pygmy puffs out onto the floor. The curls of her hair were beginning to droop, a sign George recognized as fatigue, along with the fact that her eyelids continually fluttered closed before flying open again.

"Where are you staying Mira?" George asked nonchalantly, planning to throw her over his shoulder and floo her home.

"A' th' Leaky." Her speech was inhibited by the fact that her mouth was open and in mid-yawn. Her wintergreen eyes were closed, so she didn't notice George sticking a vial of 'Out Like a Ton of Bricks' (which was in fact nothing more interesting than sleeping dust) under her nose. Like most people, she blinked for a moment before tipping over. Fred walked in as George caught her.

"What cha up to?" he asked as he also yawned, completely ignoring the fact that George had just knocked a girl out.

"Nothing much, it appears that she was staying a' the' Leaky."

"Can't have tha'." Fred agreed. So the boys sent for her things and set up a hammock in one corner of the upstairs room.

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Mira awoke to the smell of bacon, the sound of pots being moved and large feet traipsing across floors. With a start she sat up, causing the hammock to swing precariously. Mira shrieked as the room swayed beneath her.

"Good morning, Starshine! The earth says hello!" A carrot topped boy with laughing brown eyes was grinning at her from across the room. _What in the effing hell…Where am I? Who are these people? Okay._ Momentary panic having subsided, Mira attempted to get out of her hammock. Her endeavor failed miserably, for she hit the floor with a resounding thud causing everything in the room to shake a bit.

"Takes a bit'o practice, that does." George said amiably. Mira nodded, as she made her way over to what she assumed was the kitchen table. It was painted neon blue, making it the center piece in a room of glaring white. Windows were exposed to Diagon Alley, and Mira noticed that the streets had yet show any signs of life at all.

"What time is it?" She asked, as she turned to the coffee pot. _Coffee…yet another one of those lovely Muggle things._

"Urg, early." Fred said mournfully, causing Mira to glance to the clock, which read, 'Rise and Shine' with a quaint picture of a rooster on it.

"Now children, it's a lovely morning!" George said, to all appearances being obnoxiously happy at a very early hour. His outburst was met with glares that could have peeled paint. "You're right, morning time sucks." At the same time the fireplace near the staircase flashed green and a dumpy woman with the same flaming red hair stepped out. Her eyes landed on Mira and gasped as if she'd been slapped.

"Who are _you_? What are you doing with my boys? _Both _of my boys? Have they kidnapped you? Have you eaten? And _what_ are you doing with my boys? Are you sleeping with them?" The large woman's wild, rampage had reached a volume and pitch that only dogs could hear.

"I-ah-um-I…" Mira was stuttering. Her brain had frozen. This woman had shocked Mira to silence.

"Morning, mum," George said meekly.

"No I have not been kidnapped! Is that what you think of your children? I _work_ for these two. That's all. Now if you'll excuse me I'm going to do just that!" Mira pushed past the larger woman and stormed down the stairs, clad only in the overlarge t-shirt she had woken up in, which was a puzzle to be figured out later.

"Mom!" both boys raged in unison, "how could you?"

"She's just our employee." George said, the voice of reason for one of the few times in his life.

"Just an employee who happens to be very pretty and half naked?" Molly asked snidely.

"She was covered!" Fred protested angrily.

"Mum, honestly-" George began.

"Why is that girl living with you?"

"Because we can't pay her until after the store opens and she was staying at the Leaky, and their rooms are overpriced and pint sized," George said as he pulled on his boots.

"So she's living with you?" Molly asked incredulously.

"Yes, mum. She is. Now, I'm going downstairs to try and keep our manager, I'll see you later." He kissed her cheek. "And I love you mum, but you're bloody insane." George smirked and went down the stairs, his heavy dragon skin boots making the newly hewn stairs echo.

"Fred…" Molly rounded on her younger twin.

"Hi mum, it's nice to see you. What brings you here at this ugly hour of the morning?" he asked politely, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at his mother.

"You tell George that I will not be spoken to like that again." With that his infuriated mother disapparated.

Fred leaned back in his new pine chair. His legs were sprawled out on either side of the seat and one arm was hanging off of the back of the chair. The other arm was rubbing his slightly fuzzy chin. He rolled his eyes and shook his head before he stood.

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"So that was Molly Weasley, our dear mother," George said as he walked into the store room. Mira held the notebook that she had commandeered from them yesterday. In it, she had written all of the things that they were selling. She called it an inventory. The boys had handed her a giant bin full of what they said was inventory. She had looked at them and walked off with their notebook.

"She's _lovely,_" Mira said with a frown, as she nibbled on the end of her pencil.

"Yes, well, she means well, and she's scared that we'll fail, and a little stressed out with You- Know- Who running around," he said as if that made all of the sense in the world.

"She's worried about you, so she appears in your apartment, yells at _me,_ and assumes that we're having a threesome?" Mira was appalled.

"Yup, that's about it," George said with a smile.

"That's insane."

"That's my mother." Again he was smiling.

"And I thought my parents were insane," she muttered to herself.

"She's not that bad once you get to know her."

"I'm sure… What's this about You-Know-Who?" Mira asked, successfully changing the subject.

"The usual, 'cept he's got his body back, is terrorizing Harry, raping, murdering and pillaging. But, of course, he's a great bloody genius, so he's doing it all without drawing Ministry attention. Either that, or the guys at the Ministry are bumbling, babbling, baboons."

"Really?" Mira was honestly intrigued. No one in the states had paid much attention to England's trouble with You-Know-Who. His activities hadn't concerned them. He'd never once turned his eye to America, and the Americans had never protested. George wondered why she was intrigued.

"Yeah. It's been great fun for…well, ah…" He stumbled on his words and was at a loss. _She could be a spy George. A spy…You can't trust her yet._ "Well that's a topic for another day…Midsummer's this weekend," he said nonchalantly, pretending that he hadn't changed the conversation.

"And?" Mira asked, immediately wary.

"You should come with us."

"Nu uh." Mira wasn't stupid; she was going nowhere near that woman again.

"C'mon, you're going to be working with us, _living_ with us, my mum cooks better than the Queen's chef…" Mira looked at him carefully. She hadn't eaten well in weeks; she hadn't eaten at all in a few days, so a home cooked meal was very enticing. Visions of mashed potatoes and gravy floated before her face, stuffing cooked to the proper golden brown and seasoned to give it those wonderful speckles of hunter green clouded her senses. Plates of roasted chicken danced past her eyelids.


	3. Tinkerbelle

Mira, George, and Fred were sitting on a checkout counter sipping acidic coffee; the boys liked to _feel_ their coffee going down. Mira had added a tea kettle to the list of things she needed to purchase. The trio was awaiting the arrival of unemployed teenagers. Doors were set to open at ten according to the notice George had put in the _Daily Prophet_ yesterday.

"Here goes guys…" Fred said as he hopped off of the counter and meandered towards the door. He carefully placed himself so that when the doors opened he would be the first thing applicants would see. A large man in magenta robes that clashed horridly with his hair. The store painted an exotic back round that was sure to awe. He was indulging in dramatic flare.

The magenta robes Mira was protesting. The boys had backtracked on their idea of Marauders shirts. Their reasoning had something to do with Padfoot, a boy named Harry, and Death Eaters figuring the password out and utilizing the map. Mira had chalked it all up to midnight madness and gone to bed. When she had awoken George wanted to know why she hadn't brought any Wizarding robes with her.

Fred spoke the spell that would open the doors and Mira saw the first glimpse of what she would determine was her doom. A crowd of people had gathered. Some of them held camera's that were flashing wildly. A chill crawled it's way up her spine. _Shoot._

Thus began another hellish day in Mira's life.

"Name?" Her voice was completely devoid of emotion, like one of those teachers who drone on and their expressions never change.

"Aldous Uears." The inside of Mira's cheek was ripping. Her teeth held a death grip on it. The boy was extremely unfortunate, his ears, when pulled off of his skull and placed in front of his face, would cover his visage entirely. They stuck out from the side of his face, eerily pale, translucent in front of direct light.

"Ah…Yes, and do you have any work experience Mr. Uears?" Her voice wavered in pitch, like a teenaged boy.

"Not really." His voice was like that of a bullfrogs. Except that his voice did not have the same strength and command to it. Despite the low resonance his voice still managed to sound squeaky. Mira was pondering the the science behind this phenomenon when his voice permeated her hearing once again. "I uh…I like have four little brothers." His voice had taken on an odd wheezing noise.

"That's…interesting…What do you think would make you a good _WWW_ employee?" Her ears winced, her voice had taken on a life of it's own. A condescending, bratty, completely bored life.

"I uh…I like have four brothers."

"And?"

"I do good math and uh…"

"Thank you for coming in Mr. Uears, we'll be in touch…" The shoes George had been wearing became intereseting as the unfortunate boy got up and left. The dragon hide boots that were coming closer and closer. She looked up, still biting her bottom lip in an attempt not to laugh.

"Did you hire that kid?" He asked, tradmark grin in place.

"Ah…That would be a no." The laughter behind her voice was unmasked.

"Really? Hey kid!" George yelled as he chased after the kid. Shock registered right before Fred stood up on a counter and waved his magenta clad arms.

"Alright, thank you all for coming out this morning. Those of you who have been hired please stay. Those of you who have not please leave your application forms in the basket on the way out, we may be contacting you at a later date." Feet that stormed in frustration carried Mira to the register Fred had jumped gracefully off of. He grinned cheekily at her as she made her way to him.

"What is going on?" She asked, worry clouding her brain as the crowd of people made their way out of the door and into the street that was crowded by photographers. Their faces showed a mass of emotion. Some looked depressed, others amused, some curious even as they left.

"We're fully staffed, we can start training and open on time tomorrow." The thing about the Weasley twins is that there are very few things they see as concerning. This being one of those things.

"Yes, but, _how_ did we get fully staffed? I only talked to one person that I wasn't even going to hire. Why did he hire that kid? He could hardly form a cognitive sentence and had no skills whatsoever." The last part was mostly directed at herself. Why had he hired that kid?

"The kid with the ears? Cause he was interesting looking." Mira was again lost among the illogical logic of the Weasley twins.

"You hired people who _looked interesting_? Not the ones that where best for the job? The one's you thought were funny?" Life had certainly taken an interesting turn. She was working fro crazies.

"Not just the way they looked, but their actions, movements, speech, personality. This is a joke shop Mira. We wanted fun people, people who you don't necessarily run across every day. We picked the people that no one else wanted for one reason or another. We hired people like us. People that for one reason or another don't fit in. The ones that are liked but never hired because they haven't any experience." Mira's respect for the Weasley twins had just risen again.

"Okay then." Life would go one, control would be given to the Boys, she would follow, her mind desperately trying to hang onto the logic they spouted. A sheet of paper was passed around, each employee was to sign in. IN doing so they swore an oath that they would not reveal the secrets of _Weasley's Wizard Wheezes _to anyone. Mira did not understand how singing a piece of paper would do anything, but she was willing to allow the Boys their illusions for the time being.

"Now, if you would please follow George, Fred or Mira we will begin demonstrating what everything does. For example, would you like a canary crème Mister Uears?" Fred asked so politely that the boy nodded and took it without a second thought. The delectable looking pastry went into his mouth and within moments a giant canary stood in his place. Another few moments later and he was back to normal, if not a tad disheveled. The crowd laughed and began splitting up into three groups.

She was more than amused when her group turned out to be mostly women. "Alright, hello ladies, if you would be so kind as to fill out a nametag before we get started." The women crowded around the register and whispered to each other as they argued over the colored markers. "My name is Mira, I'm the manager here, probably the more sane of the three of us…Ah…Alright, since we're all ladies lets start over here, I think you'll enjoy these as much as I do." She led the group through the tables, grinning like an idiot as she did so.

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Weary feet carried her up the stairs. One of them had begun creaking somewhere in the middle. Idily she noted that it would have to be fixed. As she stepped into the landing at the top of the stairs she moaned as she tried to crack her back. It was tense, painful, and for all the prayers she had given to the gods, it _still_ would not crack. The door opened when pushed with a foot.

The sight discovered upon entry would be remembered for months. Fred was hanging from his pants, which it appeared George had been helping him into. The waistband of the green dragon hide was gripped in his hands, Fred was yelling at him to out hum down.

"Are you sure they're on all the way? Perhaps I should pull on them again?" George asked as he bounced Fred up and down in the air.

"Oww! George! Careful of the family jewels! Ow! Put be down you wanker!" George laughed and let go abruptly, Fred's knees bent as he hit the floor, but he managed to stay upright. Mira shook her head.

"What are you two doing?" She asked as Fred carefully tucked himself into his pants and buttoned the fly.

"We've got the party tonight," he said with a scowl in George's direction.

"Hm… don't wake me up when you get in alright? I'm headed for bed." She motioned to her hammock, and the blankets that littered the floor around it.

"But you're going too… Did we forget to mention that? Oops…" George said innocently.

"I haven't anything to wear. Now I _am_ going to bed."

"We know," they said in unison.

"Which is why we asked our brothers fiancé Flem-"

"_Fleur_," George corrected.

"To pick something up for you!" Fred finished like he hadn't even heard George. They were both grinning that ridiculous grin they grinned when they had completed something implausible.

"Uh huh… Thanks but no thanks boys, I'm wiped out. No parties for me." Nervous laughter colored her speech as she backed away from the boys, hands held up like a shield.

"Too late-"

"She'll be here soon," as he spoke the words the fireplace roared up in green flames and a tall figure could be seen spinning wildly. A second later a blonde beauty stepped out of the hearth gracefully, carrying a clothing bag. She smiled at the boys before looking at Mira critically.

"She iz shorter zan you zaid. But, I vill see vhat I can do," they both grimaced and nodded before trudging down the stairs. "I am Fleur," the tall Frenchwoman pulled off the plastic covering that hid the dress; or dresses as the case was. She hung them off of the cupboard handles; all where knee length cocktail dresses. One was red and reminded Mira of roman dress, draped and wrapped to give the appearance of clothing. The second was gold and tight fitting. The third was black, the top was tight fitting and emblazoned with sequins; the skirt was uneven and jagged, layers of tool. It reminded Mira of Tinkerbelle.

"I like the black one," she said with a grin.

"Me too!" Fleur exclaimed with obvious glee "Now, lets make sure those boys don't recognize you, ya?" Mira nodded and they both giggled, and coincidently her exhaustion left her.


	4. The Sexies

**Chapter Four: **The Sexies

"How long do you think it takes to put a dress on?" Fred whined. The boys were seated on the stairs, hands folded under their chins, elbows on their knees. Both were dressed in a fashion unique to only them. They had a fetish for dragon skin, an obsession with tight fitting clothing and George had quite a thing going for eyeliner lately.

"Really, it can't be that complicated. Clothes go off, the dress goes on and zips up, that a one or two minute process." George sighed and slumped forwards, hanging his head over his knees.

Five minutes passed and they had gotten into the stash of butterbeer hidden in a barrel of illumiglobes.

Ten minutes later they were eating canary crèmes.

Ten minutes after that they were jumping from register to register, seeing who could do it faster.

Five minutes later Mira came down the stairs in a floor length black coat. Her curly brown hair had been pinned a top her hair, spilling over like a crown. All they could see of her outfit was a pair of silver heels.

"Good god woman, took you long enough!" Fred growled, Mira just laughed as they bustled her out of the door.

"So why are we going to a party the night before we open?" She asked as they practically ran down the street.

"It's _our_ party, _Weasley's Wizard Wheezes_ opening party!" George said, completely exasperated.

"What?" She shrieked. "And you're telling me this _now?_" she was going to slaughter one of them. How could they forget to tell her this? _They've done it on purpose! Are they or are they not opening a joke store?_ Mustering all of her righteous rage she blew the biggest raspberry in the history of raspberry's at them.

Identical jaws dropped, large feet stopped clomping on cobblestone streets, lanky arms stopped swinging. "Pardon me,"

"But did you just-"

"Blow a r_aspberry_ at us?" Fred finished incredulously. The twins stood shoulder to shoulder, mouths agape, bodies arched out and away from the slightly disturbing sight in front of them.

"Yes, I did, in fact, blow a raspberry at you. A very good one, if I do say so myself." She leaned back on the small heels of her shoes with a self-satisfied smirk.

The boys looked at each other and then looked back at her. In the opinion of the esteemed Mira Christian, they looked dumbstruck. It was extremely satisfying to be the one on the giving end of such emotion rather than the receiving. She understood why the Boys loved to put people in this position; it was quite the ego trip.

"Why you little-"

"Witch," George had a calculating look in his eyes.

Fred had a looked that matched.

Mira felt distinctly intimidated.

"Are you-"

"Thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Raspberries." They said in unison, satisfied Weasley smiles apparated to their faces.

"That stick to walls-" The boys began to walk again, heads close together, voices low but excited.

"And are timed-"

"Or maybe queued?"

"With a spell?"

"It'd have to be basic magic though, nothing fancy. And then you run the risk of someone tracing the magic used to start the spell." Mira said, following close behind. She was having a _wonderful _time avoiding the cracks in the cobblestones, the ones that were trying very hard to eat the heels of her shoes.

The red-haired giants spun to look at her. Once again Mira felt creepy-crawlies travel up her spine. "What? It's the truth and you know it. Now keep walking or we'll never get to this party you refused to tell me about." She said, slipping her arms through theirs. She really needed something to hold onto_. Note to self, never wear stiletto's on a cobblestone street. Also, laugh hysterically whenever you see someone else doing so._

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A horseless (or it had the appearance of horselessness) took them to a club some blocks away. Muggles walked past it without a glance so Mira assumed it was a Wizards club. The trio stepped into the atmosphere of bright lights and dark walls. A cry went up as their figures were recognized, or as Fred and Georges were recognized. Mira just smiled and attempted to look like she was pretty. The boys, and Mira because she was still hanging onto the boys, where rushed to a raised platform. Lee Jordan materialized next to George.

"You're late! You're _more_ that fashionably late to your own party!" He chastised, the look on his face saying he was appalled but also a little intrigued.

"Her fault," the boys said in unison, not at all phased by Lee's disapproval.

"Is not. They didn't tell me I was supposed to come to this. They didn't even tell me about this. Fleur just showed up ten minutes before we were due to leave with three dresses! It _takes_ longer than ten minutes to make me look good!" She lamented.

"Speaking of which," Lee said as they stopped in front of the stage. "You can't wear this onstage." He said as he pulled her coat off and pushed them onto the platform.

"_Sonorus,"_ Lee spoke from behind them. Mira was aware of an odd stretching feeling in her throat as Fred pulled her up the stairs.

"Welcome to our party!" George boomed. "We are very glad you've joined us to celebrate the opening of our store!"

"Many of you know that this has long been a dream of ours," Fred said with a lopsided grin. "A dream that is finally going to be realized, ten years, many detentions and visits to the hospital wing later."

"Speaking of which, if we ever sent you to the Hospital Wing at school, we're sorry."

"Well, actually," Fred laughed, "We're not really, but we are grateful."

"Now, we have the pleasure of introducing Mira Christian, our manager, and Lee Jordon, friend, publicist, partner in crime-"

"You get the picture." They grinned at each other as they finished in unison.

"Beware the pastries." George warned before they stepped off the stage.

"_Quietus."_ Lee said, waving his wand over the three. "Alright, now, as your publicist, mingle!" He commanded, pushing George off to the left, Fred down the center and Mira off to the left.

"Lee, I'm not…no one is going to want to talk with me I'm not-" she was going to say she wasn't important but she was interrupted by a crowd of people, all who had something to say to Mira, or something they wanted from her.

A tall, skinny, busty, over dyed, over painted, blonde stepped up and slung an arm through Mira's. "Hello doll, nice dress, Armani right? I'm Lavinia, thought you've probably heard of me. Care for a drink. Two martini's dry." Mira wasn't sure how it happened but they had magically gotten to be right in front of a monstrous bar.

"Um…actually-"

"Anywho, doll, how _did _you get to work for the sexyies?" Levinia gushed; Mira could _feel_ the ooze landing on her skin. It was gloopy, warm, sticky… utterly nasty.

"I just asked them. But actually I don't dr-"

"You did not just ask them! You're so funny. Now honestly doll, both at the same time? Or does one of them like to watch? Ahh! Valerie! One of them likes to watch! You so owe me twenty Galleons!" Suddenly a busty brunette materialized from gods-know-where. Mira found herself stuck between two shrieking, well endowed women, both who apparently were having martini's sent to them from men at the end of the bar. She was sure neither of the ultrasonic twins heard the bartender.

"Ah, actually, I'm pretty sure that they don't think of eac-" she was mildly disgusted, and a tad perturbed. Did the world think that these two were together? Was there more to this than an insane mother? Was there something going on that the world had neglected to tell her?

"Well, it was nice meeting you doll, but there's a gentleman just come in that I absolutely _must _speak too. Toodles!" and then they were gone, traipsing off to pester someone else. Mira dropped her head onto the bar and let her mind wallow in self-pity and boredom.

"Two glasses of Merlot," someone male was invading her personal space. Someone very male and cultured from the way he spoke. Someone very male who smelled very nice. With a sigh Mira opened one eye and peeked through her hair to examine this nice smelling, cultured male. He was one of the best dressed men Mira had ever seen. Scratch that, one of the best dresses possibly straight man she had ever seen. "Spying on people through your hair is not the least bit subtle. Nor is it attractive. Now, sit up straight and speak with me," Mira's better judgment had left her. For some unknown reason she sat up straight, tucked her hair behind her ears and accepted a glass of wine from a startlingly blonde man.


	5. Where's George?

**_Chapter Five: _Fargo**

With a sigh Mira opened one eye and peeked through her hair to examine this nice smelling, cultured male. He was one of the best dressed men Mira had ever seen. Scratch that, one of the best dresses possibly straight man she had ever seen. "Spying on people through your hair is not the least bit subtle. Nor is it attractive. Now, sit up straight and speak with me," Mira's better judgment had left her. For some unknown reason she sat up straight, tucked her hair behind her ears and accepted a glass of wine from a startlingly blonde man.

"Thank you," apparently her manners where still intact, at least part of her brain was still working.

"Draco Malfoy."

"Mira," there was no way in the six dimensions that she was telling him her surname. Nu uh… She'd embarrassed herself enough for one night.

"Just Mira?" he asked, with one eye brow raised.

"Yup," she retorted stubbornly, gently sipping the glass of wine. _Now this is good booze, _ she thought with a disdainful glance at the martini sitting untouched on the counter.

"You're American," it was not a question, but Mira answered anyway.

"Yeah… " _Where is he going with this? Why does it matter? Who is he anyway? I'd swear I've heard his name before…_

"And from Minnesota," he was laughing now, maybe not outloud but in his head hysterics where raging.

"Yes," _How does everyone know that?_ Her brain was writhing in agony.

"I saw that movie," he was smirking. _Does everyone in Wizarding Briton smirk that way?_ She wondered idly.

"How could you have seen that movie?" She asked, completely startled. _Since when do posh British wizards see _Fargo? She wondered, green eyes open wide.

"Not all wizards are ignorant of Muggle going-on's." His excuse failed, and now it was Mira's turn to smirk.

"Fine. It was a dare, one that got me in quite a lot of trouble too if you must know." He was blushing, or he ought to have been blushing, she couldn't quite tell with the lighting the way it was.

"And that makes more sense," Mira said with a slight grin.

"Yes, it was nice meeting you Mira." He said as he bowed and then turned to fade into the crowd.

"Mira!" A panicked voice said from behind her. She turned, expecting one of the twins to be dying behind her. In actuality Fred looked like he thought she was the one who was dying.

"What?" she asked, "Is George okay?" Her voice wavered, had something terrible happened without her noticing?

"Yes, are _you_ okay?" his eyed looked at her body in panic, trying to find a wound of some sort.

"Yes, I'm fine. What's happened?" he looked like a corpse, pale under his freckles and summer tan.

"You were just being propositioned by a Death Eater! That's what's happened!" he cried, terror and fear evident in his speech and body language.

"He wasn't a Death Eater, Fred, he was just a boy," she said calmly.

"He bloody well is!" Fred retorted, anger conquering fear.

"He was wearing short sleeves," she said, as though it where the most obvious thing in the world.

"Either way he's a Death Eater!" Rage was staring to color his face.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry, I didn't know." Mira's mother had taught her one of life's most useful skills when dealing with men. Nod and smile, nod, smile, and agree with everything they say, life will be much easier that way.

"How could you not know? He's _Draco Malfoy_, evil wizard extraordinaire!" Fred fumed.

"Yes, but he also looks like he's sixteen. I don't usually see sixteen-year-olds as a threat. Especially when they're well dressed one's who look like they just want their mommy!" she fumed right back, apparently the nod and smile did not work on George-- Fred, _dangit!_

"That's the worst kind! He _wants_ you to think that! It's all part of his master plan," Fred was whispering dangerously close to Mira's ear, and it was sending shivers up her spine that might have been out of fear but most likely were the cause of something else.

"I… You know what? I don't even know what to say to that… " She said before turning and walking away, her body bending and swaying as she made her way across the crowded dance floor. Fred fumed for a moment before storming after her.

"No bloody way, woman!" He yelled after her, his voice easily being lost in the noise of the crowd. "You are not walking away from me, especially not when you're just going to get yourself in trouble… " That was the worst of it, that she didn't know. She hadn't lived the life Fred had, hadn't had the experiences he and his own had, she didn't know, and because of that Fred was determined to protect her. _Where is George when I need him?_ he thought as he roughly made his way after Mira.

He saw her pixie like figure slip out the side door. Resolutely, Fred made his way after her. He threw back to door and walked right into a warm body. He stumbled backwards and into the wall behind him. Cool fingers attached to a warm palm quickly covered his mouth. "Shh… " Pine needle green eye's flashed in the light from a streetlamp. He opened his mouth to protest when the noise of the street, cars, dogs, rap music from the club, the occasional yell, was interrupted by a moan. His eye brows rose like a life bridge and Mira stifled a snicker.

Together they crept towards the corner of the building. Mira walked awkwardly, attempting to stay on her tip toes and not let her heels click on the concrete. Fred's body was still pumping anger through his veins, but at the moment the anger was ebbing and curiosity was taking over. Mira squatted next to the corner of the building and peered around the corner. Fred placed his hand against her shoulder and set the other on the wall. As they did so Fred felt Mira shiver against his leg, he frowned, it had been a warm night a few moments again. He chalked it up to the fog that was rolling down the street, _it might storm tomorrow, if it keeps going on like this… _he thought as his head peeked down the street. He only caught a glimpse when Mira stood up abruptly, wand out and at the ready.

"Who is it?" he asked, startled by her reaction. "An old lover?" He teased gently, her frown only deepened at his statement.

"No, I… no one… just two kids… I feel strange… " And she did indeed look strange. All of the color was draining from her face and she seemed to be shivering continually. The fog rolled up and quickly enveloped the two. Fred yelped as a vibration in his pocket startled him. Mira was glancing around nervously, any feelings of curiosity and amusement had left her, to be replaced with desolation and lethargy. Mira looked down as Fred's hand scrambled around in his pocket. He pulled out a vibrating Galleon. "Oh please tell me that's not what I think that is… " Mira said in disapproving amusement.

"It's not. Come here, we have to go… " Fred wrapped his arms around her, a bit of his warmth seeping into his chilled body.

"Go where?" she asked, but Fred was already speaking the words of Apparation. She felt the familiar, unsettling squishing feeling that came with Apparation. She shut her eyes and bit her lip, not even noticing when her feet where back on solid ground.


	6. Cooking

**Chapter Six: Cooking**

"Alright kids, I'm sure you're wondering why I called you all here," Fred snorted and George looked like he was falling asleep but everyone else at the table was respectful. "Severus has given an unbreakable oath to protect Draco and ensure the task given to Draco is completed."

"And the task he has been given is to assassinate Dumbledore and allow Death Eaters access to Hogwarts." Severus finished mildly. At the end of the table Minerva gasped and dropped her tea, with an eye roll Severus waved his wand and cleared the mess up.

"What?" She asked as the color drained from her face. The synapses in Mira's brain were working faster than they had to date, and still she could not give account for what was going on. Isn't he the brains of this operation? He can't die, and isn't Hogwarts a school? Why would the death eaters want access to it? Unless it also holds some power source… and Harry Potter, but couldn't Mr. Malfoy do that and kill Dumbledor without all the fuss? 

"Naturally, the only way to ensure everyone's safety is see too it that young Mr. Malfoy succeeds." Dumbledor continued mildly. Wasn't that always the plan? If Albus dies then Severus hasn't betrayed He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, of course he won't really be dead because...The entire room was in an uproar. Various Order members were on their feet yelling or waving their limbs, shaking fists or looking unbelievable pale.

"Albus, you can't possibly be serious-" "-sir you can't die." "We need you-"

"Why can't I die? It's the most rational outcome. And then I get to have my painting put up!" The features on his face were nothing short of serene, and then Mira was laughing. The room turned to glare at her, Albus' twinkling blue eyes landed on her and more hysteria erupted from him as well.

"Why do I feel like I missed something?" George asked as he settled into his seat, Fred also sank back onto the battered oak bench that was his seat. Tears of mirth streamed down Mira's face. 

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"So he's not going to die?" Fred asked as he pulled off his boots at the kitchen table. Mira had already escaped from her taffeta prison and was in her bathrobe and slippers. George had his head down on the table and was complaining morosely about a headache.

"No, he is going to die. He has to die." She said for the umpteenth time.

"He can't die though! We need him!" Fred protested irrationally.

"You'll still have him, he'll be in the bloody painting!" She yelled as she set the kettle down on the stove vindictively.

"I'm so confused." George moaned from the table. Mira rolled her eyes and walked towards her bedroom.

"I'm going to sleep," she informed the boys pointlessly. Fred grumbled and ambled towards his room whilst George made himself more comfortable on the table.

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The boys were very subdued for the next several days, "Mira, are Fred and George okay?" One of the new employees ask as she brought and empty box into the backroom.

"I'm sure they're fine Emma, just a little worn out is all," Mira said nonchalantly, hoping her lack of concern would be reassuring. The young brunet nodded and went back out onto the floor. Mira sighed and rubbed her temples before glancing worriedly at the paper, Rufus Scridgemore to Replace Fudge. A photo of the man, who bore and uncanny resemblance to a lion was not reassuring. Dumbledor had looked nothing more than annoyed when the announcement was made and he had since made an appearance in the shop, looking as jolly and twinkling as ever.

"I just, I don't understand, Mira! He's going to die and he's acting like he doesn't care?" Fred had ranted one evening as the world thundered around them. Mira sighed and placed her teacup back in its periwinkle blue saucer. For a moment she trailed her fingers over the hand painted buttercups before she stood and wrapped her arms around his waist. For many minutes they watched puddles form in the cobblestone street of Diagon Alley.

"Have you ever thought that maybe he doesn't?" She whispered into his back. He stiffened and inhaled sharply. 

"What?" his voice cracked as he whispered the word.

"How old is he? How much destruction has he scene? How many loved ones has he lost? What has he got to fight for? How long has he been chasing towards this ever elusive goal? If I were him the last thing I'd be worried about is death." Instead of replying Fred rested his head against the windowpane and watched the rain fall onto the worn cobblestone street.

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In an unused corner of Diagon alley the mist was breeding, rejoicing in the neglect the street was being shown. In the hours past sunset, when people should have been running about in drunken glee there was no one. No one to notice that the mist was breeding and moving. Shadows where moving, and joy was hard to find. Close to the entrance to the Leakey Cauldron a small, intimate market flourished despite the growing sorrow. Mira selected a handful of tomatoes and placed them in the cheery yellow straw basket she used when she went for groceries. She traveled down the lopsided cobblestone isle and turned to examine the fresh herbs.

"So, is it still just Mira?" She looked up into silver gray eyes and smiled.

"It is.'" She reached for a small burlap pouch with a silver drawstring. "And how are you this dreary afternoon Mister Malfoy?" He also reached for a small pouch.

"Mister Malfoy is my father, I'm Draco. And I'm doing fairly well, thank you my dear." Mira let the 'my dear' pass by. She wasn't about to strangle him… yet. "How many are we cooking for?" He asked, looking at her basket which was full, and about to overflow.

"Three, but the boys eat enough for six," She said with a shrug.

"You have children?" He asked in a panic. "Let me take that," he reached for the basket and she smiled her thanks as blood rushed back into her hand.

"Well, I have grown children I didn't give birth to. Does that count?" She asked with a coy smile. She took off down another isle, leaving Draco to struggle with disbelief and heavy basket.

"If you have to cook for seven, yes. Do you actually cook? Like, really cook?" He asked, his silver eyes wide.

"I do. I never mastered the cooking spells, and I like not thinking for an hour," Again she shrugged.

"Isn't it hard?" He asked in wonder.

"Some of it," she laughed. "Have you really never met anyone who actually cooks?"

"No." 

"Oh, well… Ta da!" She raised her arms above her head an pirouetted for him. He had the same confused look Mira's puppy had gotten when she tried to teach him new tricks. His forehead scrunched up in the middle and his eyes were pinched almost shut. "You should join us for dinner sometime, have your first home-cooked meal," she said with an easy smile. Draco closed up, she watched it like you could watch people build castle walls. Stone by stone they went up and she was left facing an impenetrable wall.

"That's not a good idea, Mira." He said tightly. He wasn't rude or harsh, but he was very exact, and not at all like the young man Mira had been getting to know. She took a step back from the tall, powerful, and at the moment intimidating body that was Draco Malfoy. She swallowed before standing up straight, her posture as rigid as his.

"Of course not, momentary lapse in judgment. My fault," she reached out and took her basket back from him. "Good day," she said as she walked towards the checkout line. The irrational part of her thought he would follow her and apologize._ Apologize for what? He didn't do anything wrong. Neither of us did. Things just, changed…_  
When she exited the store he was long one. Mira held back tears as she walked the few yards into WWW, _this is just PMS talking. Nothing important. I'm not crying about a non-fight. Almost crying, not actually crying…_


	7. Severus Snape and Pygmy Pufffs

**Chapter Seven: Severus Snape and Pygmy Puffs**

Two days later Severus Snape was in her living room. George and Fred had stomped down the stairs; their jaws tight and angry. Both stood tall, shoulder muscles clenched, and their spine's rigid.

"What's happened?" Mira asked as soon as she looked up from the never ending pile of paperwork she was going through. "Is your mother alright? Is it Ginny?"

"Someone's upstairs to see you," Fred said shortly. Mira was up on her feet and up the stairs fast as a hummingbird. Idiotically, she had thought it was Draco. She skidded to a stop when she realized the person swathed in black was not Draco, but the distinguished professor Severus Snape.

"Oh! Good afternoon Professor," she said, folding her hands in front of her. She was now acutely aware that she had Pigmy Puff glitter all over her and smelled of smoke from the pile of invoices George had burned 'accidentally'.

"Miracle Christian, I presume." His voice made her shiver and clench her thighs together, _this man is terrifying, and incredibly sexy… What have I gotten myself into? _She whined in her head. Severus smirked. Why is he smirking? Can he hear me? He can't hear you, you dolt, you're not talking.

"Leglimus," he said cooly and Mira glared at him.

"You're disgusting," She began to rage at him.

"Yes, well… You still think I'm sexy so what does disgusting have to do with it?" He asked with that smirk. Mira resisted the temptation to kick him in the face. 

"What can I do for you professor?" She asked tightly.

"Severus is fine. You are not, nor have you ever been my pupil. Which is appropriate since you harbor feelings that would complicate a teacher-student relationship." Again Mira resisted the urge to physically harm him, though it was a close call.

"Severus, what can I do for you?"

He sighed like she was asking very much of him before he began. "You are not in the Order, yet you are privy to vital information. You have also formed a loose friendship with young Master Malfoy, which puts you in-"

"I haven't seen Draco in days," she interrupted. Severus glared at her and she froze. _How did the twins survive being his students?_ She wondered.

"I haven't figured that out either, though I'm sure they cheated. Now, as I was saying. You are in a very unique position. Draco genuinely likes you, and I believe, you genuinely like him. You need to help him succeed."

"In regards to what?" She asked quizzically.

"In regards to the information which you were recently privy to. Use your brain." He was glaring again. A tall, storm cloud black pillar of disdain glaring laser beams at her.

"Ah, alright… I'm not sure what I can do." She sat in one of the kitchen chairs and looked up for miles at Severus.

"Get him to talk to you again, I'm not sure what you two quarreled about but fix it. And get him to talk. Figure out what he plans to do and help him to do it. If he does not succeed He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named will be displeased." With that Severus Apparated out of the living room. Mira stared at the spot he had disappeared from. What have I gotten myself into?

Hours later George came back up the stairs to find Mira spread out on the couch, staring at the ceiling. "What did the slimy git want?" He asked as he sat on her feet. Mira pulled them out from under him and poked him in the stomach. To harass me sexually, humiliate me and to confuse the living tar our of me.

"Order stuff… Though he was very vague about it and not very helpful." She whined. George laughed. She pushed herself up by her elbows and glared.

"You're sposed to figure it out." George said with his usual happy-go-lucky grin. Mira glared at him, trying to imitate Severus' death glare but failing miserably. Again George chuckled. "He can't really tell you. He has to have things to tell Voldie that are true without giving away his allegiance. It's all a balancing act. " Mira stared at George for a moment and flopped onto her back again with a put-upon sigh.

"I hate life." She bemoaned. George patted her feet and laughed. 

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Hollow, and unable to move. Worn thin, like a pair of old, beloved jeans, about to fall to pieces. I'm a pair of old jeans! She cried to herself, burying her face in her pillow. She ought to be doing paperwork. Neverending, fully depressing paperwork. But she wasn't. Insead, what was she doing? Lying in bed like a moron girl crying about a boy. For the seccond time, I am not crying. Lying in bed pathetically. But not crying. I don't cry. I'm over crying. Been there. Done that. Over it. She threw herself out of bed and landed on her knees on the wood floor. She teetered there for a moment, on the brink of disaster and stood up. She stomped to her dresser and began pulling her brush through unruly hair. The result was unkind; her hair frizzed all over the place and Mira pulled it into a sever bun. 

George and Fred looked at her in alarm as she walked into the back room. She looked like hell. And they were probably going to tell her that. She waited for the inevitable. It never came both boys had gone back to their work. She sat at her desk and with an iron clad will made it through the pile of papers on her desk.

That evening after Mira had gone to bed Fred and George remained at the kitchen table. "I think, it is time to call Fleur." George said quietly.

"I think it is too."

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An angry Frenchwoman was in her room. Looking at her. Mira sat up, more disheveled than the day before. "The boyz tell me you haz been moping about. You've moped. Now get up!" She demanded. Mira was on her feet before she knew what had happened. She peered at Fleur from sleep encrusted eyes. "In ze shower. Now!" The part veela roared. Mira scampered.

Twenty minutes later they were sitting in a Starbucks in downtown London. The white chocolate mocha was doing wonders. Mira felt more angry and less mopey already. She grinned at Fleur, who smirked in response. Mira laughed and together they sauntered back towards Diagon Alley.

"What did you do in forty minutes?" Fred whispered after Mira and Fleur had strode back into the shop. Fleur shrugged.

"No'zing," Fleur said before turning on her heel and walking to Gringotts. 

Fred looked at George who shrugged, Women… they thought in unison. 

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The Pygmy Puffs had gone evil. They'd started biting anyone who got their fingers too near. Instead of delectable pets they were a puffy army ready to search and destroy. "Fred!" Mira screamed for the fifth time. "What did you DO?!" He cowered, cornered by fifty of the evil pink pygmys. With another banishing charm Mira sent a handful into a transfigured fish tank. She jumped onto the lid and cast an unbreakable charm.

"What did I do? You did it!" He yelled back, stomping on the things, creating fountains of glitter around himself.

"I don't cast the charms you bloke!" She screeched at him.

George tumbled into the room, jeans half done, hair standing on end. "What in the bloody hell is going on?" He roared, balancing himself on the doorframe. 

"This imbecile cursed the pygmy puffs!" Mira shrieked as she banished more of the puffs into a crate. "What in the bloody hell have you been up to?" She cried as she got a full look at him.

"Nothing!" He shouted, zipping his pants up.

"You have sx hair! Don't _nothing_ me young man. We're banishing demented pygmy puffs and you're doing the naughty!" She screamed at him, her face going cherry colored and her body thrown forwards. For a moment George thought he wasn't the only person in his family who dealt with dragons.

"What's naughty?" Lee Jordan asked as he walked into the back room, a more nicely put together than George.

"You're naughty. Doing the naughty. Honestly. It's the middle of the day!" She hissed at the two of them before spinning to attack the pygmy puffs that had attached themselves to Fred. In a flurry of light gold light and a whirlwind of glitter the puffs fell off him in droves, landing on the floor in one final puff of glitter. Fred looked like he'd been attacked by a castle full of twelve year old girls who'd never before seen glitter.

"That. Was. Horrible." He said before he walked out of the rooms and up to their flat, trailing glitter all along. Mira glared at George and Lee.

"Clean this up." She demanded before pushing past them.

"Where are you going?" George asked nervously.

"I don't know."


End file.
